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Not a bone of poetry in you.
Not a sliver of wisdom,
an ounce of introspective matter.

But you are what you are;
you are what you are to me, still.

I do what I do all day, for what?
For this?

Lay your judgment on me, once and for all.
Rain on me today if you promise it won’t ever rain again.

1 Comment

  1. Heather
    March 27, 2007 at 1:11 am

    hey– is this it? i don’t see anything between today and this entry so i’m assuming yes…since it seems to correlate with what we were talking about. i like it…

    if it isn’t, then i still like it but want to read what you intended me to read also. talk to you later sir!

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